CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: BLOOD IN THE WATER

The city bled.

Taylor made sure of it.

She moved through the Narrows like her alias, striking fast, brutal, and without mercy. Unseen until it was too late.

The first man barely had time to scream before she slammed his head against the alley wall. Bone cracked beneath her palm, and he collapsed, gasping, blood pooling between his fingers.

“Where’s the Calculator?”

“I—I don’t—”

She pressed her boot into his ribs and leaned in. “Wrong answer.”

No hesitation. No restraint. She was done holding back.

The others thought they could fight back—until she broke their arms, their legs, left them writhing in the gutter, clutching shattered limbs and spitting blood.

Then they learned.

The second she entered a room, they talked. Rumors spread fast—Gotham’s newest vigilante wasn’t just disrupting operations anymore. She was dismantling them. Safehouses burned, supply lines were severed, and anyone caught working for those allied with the Calculator ended up broken in the streets. The same men who once laughed at the idea of a lone vigilante taking on Gotham’s worst weren’t laughing anymore.

She didn’t warn. She didn’t negotiate.

She didn’t care.

She tore through the Calculator’s network like a predator tracking wounded prey—hunting Penguin’s informants, Black Mask’s couriers, and enforcers with even the faintest connection to him. And if you were in the way, God help you.

Yet, it wasn’t enough.

So she hit them harder.

A warehouse storing stolen weapons? Gone. A drug den doubling as a front for smuggling? Reduced to wreckage, every enforcer left bloody and beaten in the aftermath. Every lead she followed, each name she pried from terrified lips brought her one step closer.

And every step, Spoiler was there.

She wasn’t fast enough to stop the first beating. Or the second. But she was fast enough to see the aftermath.

And it scared her.

She had seen brutality before. Gotham had taught her what violence looked like, what cruelty could do to people. She had seen it in Black Mask’s torturers, in Joker’s victims, in the casual, almost thoughtless way the city’s worst treated life like something disposable.

But this—this was different.

Taylor wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t sadistic. But there was something terrifying in the precision of it—the cold, methodical way she worked. Despite her motive, she didn’t lash out in rage. She didn’t lose control. Every strike was calculated, every break intentional. A message, written in bruises and broken bones.

This wasn’t some rookie going too far. This wasn’t someone lashing out blindly.

Taylor knew exactly what she was doing.

And she wasn't stopping.

Spoiler followed, trying to contain the damage, trying to step in before it got worse. But Gotham was watching now. The underworld whispered her name in fear.

And every time Taylor left another shattered informant in the dirt, Spoiler knew they were getting closer to the point of no return.

The line was right in front of Taylor.

And she was going to cross it.

. . . . .

A man was sobbing into the pavement when Spoiler caught up.

“You’re late,” Taylor said, wiping the blood from her knuckles.

Spoiler didn’t answer. She looked at the man curled in the alley, shaking, his hand bent the wrong way. Then she looked at Taylor.

“This has to stop.”

Taylor scoffed. “Then stop me.”

A muscle in Spoiler’s jaw twitched. “You think this is helping?”

“The only way to stop him is to tear out everything he’s built.” Taylor turned away, stepping over the man’s trembling form. “This is necessary.”

“No,” Spoiler snapped, stepping in front of her. “You’re crossing lines you can’t uncross.”

Taylor stilled.

Spoiler exhaled sharply, her shoulders tight. “You think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re just—”

“Just what?” Taylor’s voice was quiet. Cold.

Spoiler hesitated, then forced the words out. “You’re making things worse.”

For a moment, something in Taylor’s expression flickered—just a second of something unreadable. Then she shoved past her.

“Stay out of my way.”

Spoiler watched her go, fists clenched.

This was getting worse. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could contain it alone.